The Rebel and the Lady

He studied her, his deep blue eyes intent. “If you have a minute, I’ll show you.”

She hesitated. Such casual conversation with a man like him was new to her. Enticing, because he was so different than any man she’d ever met before—more rough, more reckless. Thrilling, too. Her parents, had they been present, would never allow such a conversation to take place. It would not have been proper.

His brow quirked up. “Looks like a war is going on between your ears, darlin’.”

She frowned.

“What worries you?”

“It’s not proper. Juan would not be pleased.”

“Seguín?” He thought for a moment and she was gratified he didn’t tease her again. “Understood. How about if we make sure to stay where we can be seen by others?”

She hesitated, but then nodded. “Sí. That would be acceptable.”

He led her to the open horse corral adjacent to the church. The handful of horses plodding around the pen seemed as aimless as the soldiers who lounged outside. The large enclosure’s adobe back wall doubled as the east wall of the fort and along it, a stall housed a large black stallion at least sixteen hands high. The horse stomped the dirt and whinnied as they approached, kicking up the odor of fresh straw and horse.

“Easy boy,” Jake said soothingly. He ran the flat of his hand over the horse’s neck and withers. An answering shudder vibrated through the beast as it quieted.

Victoria lowered her kettle to the ground and rubbed her arms. She was sure it was coincidence that she’d felt an awareness, too—as if his palm had been on her own skin. Disturbed, she shook the thought from her and stepped closer.

Jake stood near the horse, so that she had to move around him to check the gash on its hindquarters. She pressed the swelling at the stitches, noting the yellow drainage that oozed out. The horse stamped its hoof and snorted.

“Whoa, Fury.”

“Here,” she said, then moved her fingers lower on the gash. “And here, the wound festers, but only slightly.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Yes. A mixture of lard and kerosene to draw out the infection would help. I can make it up for you if you’d like.”

She turned to get his reaction and suddenly noticed how close he was. A full head taller than she, he had successfully enclosed her between the wall and his horse, although, as he’d promised, her skirt could be seen by those lounging the perimeter of the corral. The horse’s massive body blocked the rest of her from view. From here, the straight line of the Anglo’s jaw was all she could see, that and the stubble of beard that coated it.

He kept his palm on his horse, calming it as he met her gaze. “You’re not afraid of this big animal, are you?”

She smiled at such foolishness, tugging on the gold hoop earring in her ear. “I’ve been around horses all my life, señor. Why would I be afraid?”

He leaned closer, and the scent of musk and leather enveloped her.

She lowered her hand.

“You’re not afraid of me, either.” Under the brim of his hat, his eyes darkened. He raised his hand to stroke her cheek with fingers roughened but gentle. His touch left a trail of tingles behind.

Her breath hitched. “Should I be?”

He tilted her face toward his. “Definitely, señorita.”

Her heart beat faster, caught as she was in his spell. “You cannot be trusted to act the gentleman?”

He focused on her lips, his intent now obvious. “Never learned how.”

A lump formed in her throat. He wanted to kiss her. She swallowed hard. It wasn’t proper. She should resist, but she was curious. His lips, set there in the middle of his dark day-old beard looked impossibly soft for someone so tough. How would they feel against hers? How would he taste?

He lowered his mouth to hers. Warmth rushed from his lips to hers, sending heat through her body. Not unpleasant at all, she thought, adjusting her lips slightly to his mouth. He slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer, his mouth firm against hers now, moving, opening…

Her heart raced. The only time she’d been kissed before, she’d been sixteen. Esteban’s fumbling kiss was child’s play compared to this man’s kiss. This was not a sweet request for a mutual sampling, but a demand, hard and full of need. Passion penetrated it—daring her to satisfy her curiosity at her own risk.

Even though continuing might place her teetering on the brink of peril, she was not ready to stop yet. Tentatively she relaxed her lips, allowing his tongue to touch hers. Fire rushed to her center, searing her, melting her resistance. Perhaps this was a mistake after all. Perhaps this was more than she could handle. Suddenly her knees weakened and buckled.

He broke off the kiss and caught her, supporting her effortlessly. He set her from him and stared at her, confusion clouding his face.

Stunned at the intensity of his kiss, she forced herself to straighten, finding her legs beneath her still unsteady. Heat flamed in her cheeks. She covered them with her hands. That had been more than she’d expected.

Without a word, she edged around him and started across the corral.

“Señorita.”

She heard his call, but kept going at a brisk clip. She had to get away from him. Had to think clearly again. He was dangerous. More than she’d ever imagined.

“Victoria!”

Oh, this wouldn’t do—calling after her like a common soldadera. Anyone could hear. Juan could hear. She dragged in a great gulp of cold air and turned to give him a scathing retort.

He held up the kettle. “You forgot this.” As she reached for it, he pulled it close to himself. “I’ll carry it. It’s the least I can do if you’re going to help my horse.”

Thank goodness he did not mention the kiss. Her emotions whirled around her in chaotic images, embarrassment foremost in her mind. “I can manage.”

“I’m not saying you can’t.”

He wasn’t teasing her any longer. His eyes were serious. Her breathing finally slowed to normal. “Thank you.”

He walked beside her as they left the fort and crossed the footbridge over the San Antonio River. She barely noticed the two little boys throwing stones into the water as she hurried across the wooden planks.

“Victoria…about what just happened,” he began.

She swallowed hard and looked straight ahead. “I am sorry for it, Señor Dumont. Please do not recall it.”

“It’s nothing to be upset about.”

“You do not understand.” Part of her was embarrassed, but another part deeper inside was thrilled and that made her all the more dismayed at herself. How could her body betray her like that? “You do not understand,” she repeated.

He put a hand on her arm, gently slowing her steps. “Explain it to me then.”

Now he was kind. What was it about this man that called to her so? “I can’t. It…it isn’t you. I’m angry with myself. What I did would mortify my parents. How could I let you touch me? You’re—you’re not even Catholic!”

He pulled her to a stop. “Now wait a minute. I think I had a little influence on what just happened, too. Don’t shoulder the whole thing like some martyr. And, Victoria, it was just a kiss!”

It was far more than a kiss to her. If he wasn’t affected by it, it just proved how innocent she was and how foolish. Exasperation with him and with herself lent anger to her words. “Oh! You…you… hombre!”

His gaze narrowed.

She was getting worked up to a fine temper but couldn’t seem to stop. “There is nothing nice about you! Do not talk to me anymore. And give me back my kettle.” She faced him and, grabbing hold of the large pot, she tugged it toward herself.

He kept hold of the rim.

The glare she gave him should have burned him to a crisp. He was just too mean to disintegrate into smoke. When she tugged on the pot again, he finally let go.

“Strange,” he said, staring down the street. “Seems awful quiet today. Wonder what’s going on?”

She followed his gaze and for the first time noticed that the gun shop was closed and the milliner’s, too. “Perhaps Lieutenant Colonel Travis has allowed some of the men leave to check on their homes. Juan said he was going to request it first thing this morning.”

“Maybe,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced and still scrutinized the side streets and yards.

Victoria cleared her throat, drawing back his attention. “I can make it the rest of the way myself,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

He stepped back and tipped the brim of his hat. “I’ll just say good day then, Señorita Torrez. And thank you.”

Conscious that he watched her, she strode down the street, not slowing her pace until she reached Juan’s doorstep. Before she stepped through the portal, she couldn’t help glancing back at him. He’d already turned and headed back to the fort.

“Good,” she murmured to herself although she remained irritated at him. She had important things to consider, and his presence made it difficult to think rationally.

However, once she entered the parlor she couldn’t think of anything but his kiss. The caress had been important to her and it hurt to know Señor Dumont hadn’t been as taken with her as she was with him—even if curiosity had been her initial reason for kissing him. She touched her lips, wondering that she could still feel the insistent press of his mouth against hers. They had been soft…and smooth. Oh, so smooth. Her hands clenched. The hombre!

She walked into the kitchen and let out a shriek.

Chapter Five

Esteban stood in the middle of the kitchen, his chest heaving as he sucked in air to breathe. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dampened and curled his black hair. His uniform clung to him.

Recovering from her initial reaction of fright, she ran to him. “Esteban! What are you doing here?” she whispered frantically. “Is it my parents? Do you have word of them?”

“They are gone.”

“No!” she cried. “No! I should have been there with them.”

Esteban shook her gently by the shoulders. “Victoria! Quiet yourself. They ran off in the night. The army searched for a day and found no trace of them. Food was missing, and horses from the corral, so I know they slipped away. And Santa Anna did not want to search longer for one old man and woman.”

“My parents are not old!” she said indignantly.

“The officers were not overworried at their disappearance.”

Calculating the days since she’d last seen Esteban, she paused. “You did not have time to return all the way to Laredo since I last saw you. How do you know this?”

Esteban hesitated slightly. “From my second in command. He sent word.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “They will return when it is safe to do so, just as I hope to. I have to believe that.” She looked over his blue uniform. “You aren’t safe here dressed like that. Let me find something of Juan’s for you to wear.”

“No. Victoria—wait. There isn’t time.” The urgency in his voice had her turning back to him from the doorway. “You cannot stay here. You must leave immediately and get to safety.”

“Is it Santa Anna? Is he near?”

He nodded. “A few miles out. I raced to get here.”

The church bell started clanging, startling them both. Victoria felt Esteban’s grip tighten on her shoulders, almost hurtful before releasing her. In the streets, men shouted to each other. She glanced out the window. A woman with a baby wrapped in her arms was hurrying toward the fort. A young child, clinging to her skirt, slowed her progress.

Her chest tightened. “It has finally happened, then. All that we have feared.”

“There was never a doubt.”

“Oh, Esteban! You take such a risk coming here to warn me.”

“I will get back before anyone knows I am missing. It’s you I’m concerned about.” He glanced about the room. “Quick. Gather your things. Come with me.”

The determination in his voice frightened her. “But I must go to the fort with the others!”

He pressed his lips together. “No. Victoria… please come with me. I’ll protect you.”

She shook her head. “You should go back now,” she said firmly. At his worried expression, she threw her arms about his neck. “I will be fine. You are dear to me, Esteban. Stay safe.”

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